


AJ and Autumn, Jack and -o-Lanterns

by impossiblepluto



Series: Project Gemini [5]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Fluff, Found Family, Gemini AU, Gen, Parental Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, child!Mac (except not because the child is AJ), sick AJ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:08:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27191513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblepluto/pseuds/impossiblepluto
Summary: Autumn, slice of life ficlets, set in the Gemini 'verse
Series: Project Gemini [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817443
Comments: 95
Kudos: 44





	1. Leaf Crunching

A golden leaf flutters in the wind, tumbling toward the ground, skittering across the pavement. 

_Crunch._

AJ spins, grinning up at Jack at the sound it makes under his foot. Jack smiles back, enjoying the look of enchantment on the boy’s face.

Dropping Jack’s warm hand, AJ scampers a few feet ahead.

 _Crunch. Crunch. Crunch._

Red. Orange. Yellow.

AJ giggles as he obediently waits for Jack to catch up while scouting his next leafy victim. 

_Crunch. Crunch._

Autumn hit with full force, overnight it seems. The gradually-turning neon green leaves erupted into flaming reds, burnt oranges, and golden yellows, AJ’s eyes sparkle as he pesters Jack for answers he only half-remembers from his earth science classes. 

“Remember how we talked about why the leaves were green? Because of chloroform?”

“Chlorophyll,” AJ corrects, studying the tie-dyed leaf he’s twirling between his fingers. “It helps the plants make energy from the sun. Phot- photosynthesis.”

“My little scientist over here,” Jack tugs the burgundy colored beanie down lower on AJ’s head, covering his eyes. “Have you noticed the sun is setting earlier?”

AJ tilts his head back peering out from under the knit cap. “Uh-huh, it’s dark in the morning too. We have to turn the lights on in the kitchen to see our cereal.”

“That’s cause the seasons are changing. Means it’s going to get colder and the days are going to get shorter.”

“The days are getting shorter?” AJ exclaims. “How-”

“Not shorter,” Jack hastens to explain. “Still twenty-four hours in a day. But the sun is going to be out for fewer of those hours during the winter.”

AJ shivers. “I don’t think I like that.”

“It’ll be okay. Happens every year. We’ve got our cozy cabin. We’ll hang up some twinkle lights and have a fire in the fireplace.”

AJ gives Jack a dubious look. 

The temperatures dropped too. AJ’s nose was cold when he pushed it against Jack’s chest in his sleep that morning, prompting Jack to turn up the thermostat and cuddle AJ in his sleepsack until the house warmed up. And insist on a warm hearty oatmeal rather than AJ’s personal preference for cereal. 

He’s pretty sure the boy would eat cereal for every meal if Jack let him. 

It’s too cold now for t-shirts and hoodies. Especially for a little guy with no meat on his bones to keep him warm. 

The display of coats caught his eye in the store over a month ago. Jack pulled one from the rack, holding it out in front of him, eyeballing the size.

He occasionally picked out clothes for Mac, but the kid had mostly quit growing by the time they were home from the Sandbox. He didn’t have to worry about Mac suddenly shooting up and his pants hanging well above his ankles like he was preparing for a flood. That had been the Army’s problem when it happened while they were downrange.

But AJ was probably due for a growth spurt soon. 

Right?

He tracked AJ’s movements as the boy studied the way the shelves fit snugly into the pegboard, considering how much the boy might grow over the next few months until it’s warm enough to go without a coat again. 

“Hey, Fun-size.” 

AJ’s head snapped up.

“C’mere a minute,” Jack waved him over. AJ hopped up standing in front of Jack. With a small frown of concentration, Jack unzipped the jacket, removing it from the hanger, still unable to visually confirm it would fit. “Try this on.” 

AJ blinked in surprise but slithered into the sleeves, squirming as Jack squatted beside him and fastened the coat, tugging on the shoulders and checking the length.

And he studied AJ’s expression.

The spectrum of possible reactions was broad. 

AJ rarely speaks about the labs and even rarer that he reveals specifics. Jack is never sure what innocuous sight, sound, or smell might trigger a nightmare later, or cause him to stiffen stoically even as his chin wobbles and tears flood his eyes. 

It’s been a learning curve, for both of them. While AJ has become more comfortable with speaking up, he still often relies on Jack reading his expressions and posture to know if something distresses him. Though he’s grown used to it, the car seat will on occasion induce a tantrum, particularly if AJ is overtired or sick or overstimulated. Jack worries that AJ might find the jacket equally confining. 

But he took to the sleep sack immediately, and continued to use it after they moved into their home and Jack told him he didn’t need to, finding the cocooned warmth comforting. 

“What do you think?” Jack asked. The boy didn’t look upset. He just looked longingly over at the shelf-studying Jack interrupted. 

AJ shrugged. Jack bought the coat and put it away, hoping when the time came, it wouldn’t become a battle of wills. 

But AJ also hates being cold, snuggling up to Jack at the slightest chill, like he is AJ’s own personal furnace- that must be what both his boys see when they look at him, a great big industrial-strength heater, because Mac is... was... is the same way. 

He has visions of frozen little blond boys with lips as blue as his eyes and wonders if there was anyone who cuddled Mac or AJ before Jack was around to do it. 

Which is another worrying thought. Jack can wrestle AJ into a jacket now, but who is there to make sure Mac isn’t going without one?

AJ raises a skeptical, expressive eyebrow that makes Jack smile when he appears with AJ’s new coat draped over his arm before their usual morning walk. 

“I think it’s time to pull out the jackets,” Jack says, kneeling down and helping AJ zip his coat. “Don’t want you getting cold out there.” He tugs a beanie onto the little blond head. 

AJ shivers when they step outside. 

“Should have thought of gloves,” Jack says, taking one of AJ’s small hands in his, marveling again at the delicate fingers and his boy’s strong grip. He tucks their hands into his pocket to keep them warm - AJ’s fingers stroke the callouses on his own - and instructs AJ to slide his free hand into his coat pocket.

And that’s when, eyes widening with excitement, he discovers the many, many pockets of his utility style jacket, and all the possible hiding places for the treasures he finds on their walk. So far he’s got four leaves, five acorns, a pinecone, and two pebbles shoved into his pockets. Jack knows his boy. 

Jack stops to pick up a few pinecones of his own, with a plan in mind. 

A gust of wind sends AJ crashing into Jack’s leg for warmth and rustles the trees, a swirl of leaves dances around their ankles. AJ stops, watching the wriggling leaves, transfixed. 

Until, with a grin, Jack stomps one of the leaves with a satisfying crackle under his boot, breaking the spell.

AJ looks up at Jack, his face a mixture of surprise and awe.

“Best part of the fall, the leaf crunchin’.” 

AJ looks back down at the leaves churning around them. 

“Can… can I?”

“Sure, go ahead Godzilla, stomp those leaves.”

AJ takes a tentative step, just barely catching the leaf under the sole of his foot before the wind tries whisking it away. It gives a small crunch. 

Jack grins harder and stomps another leaf. With a bit more confidence, AJ copies him. They prance up the leaf laden street, AJ’s peals of laughter echo on the wind. 

There’s a swirl of leaves caught up in a wind current, spinning madly. AJ leaps forward, a two-footed stomp and crushes the lot. 

Seeing AJ playing does Jack’s heart good. The serious look melts from his features and he can be a kid. Full of innocence and laughter. That expression is on his face more often these days than it was when they first started running. He's happier, more relaxed than that solemn little boy but there are moments when the mask still slides into place. Pensive. Withdrawn. Hidden memories Jack wonders if he’ll ever be privy to. Worried that AJ will never truly be free from. If they’ll taunt him as Mac’s do. 

_Crunch. Crunch. Crunch._

Giggle. 

The wind turns his cheeks pink and his eyes sparkle with cold and delight. 

Jack was too late to prevent the lab for either of his boys. And he's not there now to stop the memories from encroaching on Mac. But maybe he can grant AJ a reprieve.

He plants a kiss on AJ's beanie clad head, then grabs his hand and joins him in a two-footed leaf stomp.


	2. Jack-o-lanterns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my favorite things about this universe is Jack's nicknames for AJ. This chapter uses nicknames introduced in violetvaria's Days and Dads, Surprises and Sons

“What do you think?” 

AJ’s eyes narrow in concentration. He bites his lip as he spins in a small circle. “There are so many.”

Pumpkins, not quite as far as the eye can see, fill the large field, connected by thick tendrils that loop and coil between them. AJ squats, reaching out before pulling his hand back and looking at Jack, seeking permission.

“I can touch?”

“You can touch. Don’t pick it until you’re sure it’s the one you want though.”

AJ nods seriously, before placing cautious fingers against the smooth orange skin. He gives a few soft taps, a stroke and then apparently finds the pumpkin wanting. His lips pucker as he turns his head, and duck waddles a few steps to his right assessing the next round gourd. Canting his head the other direction, he studies this one. A moment later he pops up, hopping over a pumpkin and a vine, and plops down again next to a different vegetable.

Or is it a fruit?

It’s similar to the debate over tomatoes, right? Jack frowns. And those are fruit because of seeds. Or something. Which would make a pumpkin a fruit? At least he’d eat a pumpkin pie. He’d never eat a tomato pie. 

Jack mentally files away the question that he’s sure AJ will have later. 

Or maybe he won’t. AJ doesn’t really divide and categorize his world the same way others do. Maybe he’ll come up with something completely different that Jack never had a chance of expecting or preparing an answer for. 

AJ hurtles another fruit, crouching again. Inspecting the dried husk of the vine, he leans over, nearly into a full headstand before jumping up again. He surveys the field, one arm crossed over his chest, the other forming a fist which he props just under his mouth. 

And he looks so much like Mac. Weighing his options. Making a decision on which the fate of the world hangs. 

“Jack?”

“Yeah, pumpkin?” 

AJ turns, large eyes looking up at Jack. “I- I don’t know.”

“There are a lot to choose from.”

AJ nods. His brow furrowed, serious, and contemplative. And concerned. He doesn’t like not having answers.

So much like Mac. 

“It’s okay not to know.”

AJ quirks his lips and sighs. “It’s okay to make a hypo _thesis_ and not be correct.” 

“Nothing wrong with being wrong,” Jack smothers most of his grin, allowing the corner of his mouth to twitch into a smile at AJ repeating his words by rote, and correcting with a long-suffering sigh Jack’s habitual quip before he has an opportunity to make it himself. 

It’s still a work in progress, getting AJ to accept that being incorrect isn’t unforgivable. It doesn’t mean that he’s lying. It doesn’t mean that something is wrong with him. It had no bearing on his worth or his smarts.

“This gives us a chance to learn something new. For next time.”

AJ nods slowly, squatting down next to yet another pumpkin. “This is my first time in a pumpkin patch.” 

“Really?” Jack asks, following AJ through the field shaking his foot loose from the dried husk that it catches on. “You’d never know. You seem like a natural at this. Very thorough.”

“I think,” AJ pauses, scanning the patch again before looking down at the pumpkin that while he’s crouched is almost as tall and definitely rounder than he is. “I think this one.” 

“Looks like a great one to me,” Jack says squatting next to the boy. “Want to help me load it onto the wagon?”

Grunting with exertion, AJ stretches his arms wide around his prize, and with Jack’s help, lifts it, dodging rejected pumpkins as they carry it back to their waiting wagon. 

AJ puffs with exertion after the pumpkin is settled. “Are you going to pick one?”

“Yup,” Jack says. He gives a quick scan of the field before turning back to AJ and looking him up and down. Then he scoops up the boy. “I choose this one!”

“Jack!” AJ squeals with delight. “Not me, a pumpkin!”

“Best pumpkin in the patch, right here,” Jack hoists him up higher.

“But I’m not a pumpkin,” AJ laughs, wriggling. 

“Hmmm, yeah, I guess you’re not,” Jack’s mouth quirks as if he’s contemplating AJ’s claims. He hugs AJ close for a moment, brushing a kiss to the top of his head. “You might not be a pumpkin, but I’ll always choose you.” 

AJ’s squirming stops, just for a moment, and smiles softly at Jack. Then he struggles to get down again. 

“Alright, alright,” Jack loosens his grip and lets AJ slide slowly out of his arms until his feet reach the ground. “How about you help me pick out a real pumpkin then?”

“Haven’t you picked a pumpkin before?”

“Sure, a few times, but it’s still mostly guesswork. And that’s okay. Part of the fun. You never know what you’re gonna get, Forest, until you cut into it. And this one,” Jack pats AJ’s pumpkin in the wagon, “looks so good, I thought you could try for another.”

“What if it’s not a good one?” AJ says quietly, scuffing his toe against the dirt.

“Did you have fun looking for it?” Jack asks.

“Um, yeah,” AJ smiles.

“Me too. Made a good memory. That’s all that matters.”

AJ wavers. 

“And we’ll make more good memories. We’ll carve it. Roast the seeds for a snack. Put candles inside so it’ll be all lit up. But the best part is that we’re doing it together.” 

He’s still a bit reluctant, not entirely convinced by Jack's words, but AJ agrees. If Jack thought he took the selection process seriously for his pumpkin he’s absolutely meticulous in examining Jack’s. 

Jack doesn’t know what type of rating system AJ cooked up for his selection process, but he’s pretty sure the boy managed to pick the two prettiest pumpkins Jack’s ever seen. 

“You want to ride back with them in the wagon?” Jack asks after they load the second pumpkin.

“As long as you remember that I’m not a pumpkin,” AJ says, lifting his arms for Jack to pick him up.

“I’ll try to remember that,” Jack laughs, swinging AJ into the wagon. “You’re as cute as a pumpkin.” He laughs harder, blinking back surprised prickling in his eyes when he’s rewarded with an eye roll and an exasperated shake of a blond head. He tries to focus on what he has at this moment, the love he feels for this boy, and not who he’s missing.

On the weekends, this farm offers hayrides out to their pumpkin patch and Jack has a small pang of regret that he can’t give AJ that experience as well, remembering his granddad hitching a wagon to his old tractor and pulling the delighted grandkids around the ranch. He’s got fond memories of those days. He wants to give those good experiences and adventures to AJ. Fill his head with good things instead of the cold loneliness of the lab, or even the long car rides in the months after his rescue. 

But Jack lives in fear of being recognized. Being remembered. He selected a farm over an hour away from their home, passing three other pumpkin patches on the way. AJ doesn’t even blink at the idea of an hour-long car ride -that's nothing compared to their early roadtripping days. And Jack opted to go on a less busy Monday, even if it means he can’t give AJ an actual hayride.

Maybe someday these trade-offs won’t be something he has to think twice about anymore.

He’s always going to worry about his boy though. 

A burst of giggles erupts from AJ, breaking Jack from his increasingly maudlin thoughts, as the wagon bounces over deep ruts and uneven terrain. It soothes his aching heart, getting to see AJ this relaxed, happy, enjoying life the way a five-year-old should. Reminding him of the purpose behind the sacrifices his entire family is making. 

But the boy has still picked up on Jack’s hypervigilance. 

“Jack, wait,” AJ calls as they near the barn and sees more people are milling around as the sun rises and the rest of the world wakes up. He scrambles out as the wagon comes to a stop, and bounds forward, attaching himself like a burr to Jack’s side. 

“Okay, you can walk, but stick close to me. Don’t go wandering off,” Jack reminds him and AJ nods vigorously. 

Despite the temptation of the lumpy, bumpy gourds and the appeal of rattling dried corn husks, AJ keeps himself pressed against Jack’s leg as he pays for their pumpkins. 

AJ’s never been in a barn before, Jack realizes, his head on a swivel as he takes in new sights and smells, and blinks in surprise after a huge sneeze explodes. There’s a large bushel basket, sitting at AJ’s eye level about three feet away from Jack, overflowing with bright orange and white. AJ takes half a step forward, intrigued. His head cocked to the side. 

He reaches a cautious finger out, touching the miniature version of the pumpkins before bounding half a step back. 

“Jack,” AJ tugs insistently at Jack’s flannel shirt. “Jack, look. They’re fun-sized!”

Turning to see what AJ is pointing at, Jack grins. “Looks at that. Fun-sized. Just like you. Told ya, that you could be my pumpkin of choice.” 

The twenty-something girl behind the table smiles at them, and AJ realizing he’s been noticed, presses closer to Jack.

“That variety is called a Jack-be-little,” she offers. 

AJ smiles shyly at her before tilting his head back and looking up - way up - at Jack while laughing. “Jack’s not little.”

“Maybe we should call them AJ-be-little?” Jack holds back a wince as the words tumble out of his mouth without thinking. AJ is small, seems smaller than average from Jack’s somewhat limited experiences with kids, and his reading about childhood growth curves, but he doesn’t want to draw AJ’s attention to that. Doesn’t want the boy thinking that there’s something wrong with him. Doesn’t want him thinking that Jack thinks there’s something wrong with him. That he’s too small or too short or in any way lacking. 

“I’m bigger than I was,” AJ stands up straighter and smiles proudly. “You measured me.” 

“Yup, you’re growing up,” Jack agrees. Still hasn’t hit the growth spurt Jack’s been hoping for, but he marked off AJ’s height on the door jamb when they moved in and in the re-measuring comparison last week, to Jack’s great relief, he has grown. Somehow Jack’s managing to do something right. 

“Why don’t you pick one out?” Jack says, giving AJ a small push towards the basket. “These Jumbo pumpkins need a fun-sized partner.” 

It doesn’t take AJ nearly as long to select one of the smaller pumpkins. He holds it delicately, as though it’s made from glass. 

Jack loads the two large pumpkins into the trunk of the car before helping AJ crawl into his car seat and buckling him in. Through the rearview mirror, Jack smiles as he watches AJ on the drive home, examining his newest treasure from every angle, intrigued by the small size, until his eyes start drooping, lulled to sleep by the sounds of the road. His AJ-be-little pumpkin tucked protectively under his arm as he naps. 

* * *

“It’s slimy!” AJ shrieks with surprised giggles, yanking his hand back from the orange gourd.

“It’s pumpkin guts,” Jack laughs. “They’re supposed to be slimy. Come on. Get in there and grab a handful.”

AJ sits up on his knees, peering dubiously into the deep recesses of the pumpkin in front of him on the table before leaning back and looking at Jack. 

“Gotta clean out the insides or it’s not going to work,” Jack says, sawing into the second pumpkin, creating a lid. 

“There’s a lot of pumpkin guts,” AJ leans forward again, his mouth pulled into an overdramatic half-frown. 

Jack pauses his slicing. 

“It’s dark in there,” AJ continues. 

“That’s why we’ll put a candle in it once we’ve got it all cleaned out and carved.”

AJ takes a deep breath and plunges both hands into the murky depths.

“It’s cold!” He squeals as he pulls out two handfuls of stringy orange flesh, dripping with seeds, and plops it onto the table with a wet slurp. He digs through the mess, meticulously pulling the seeds free and plonking them into the bowl. 

Jack searches for and finds a not-too-spooky Halloween playlist for their pumpkin-carving party, and tries not to giggle as he hears AJ’s answering whoop-

 _“Ghostbusters!”_

-to the question posed by Ray Parker Jr. The boy has a good ear for music and lyrics and is quickly singing along to “Monster Mash,” “September” and “Bad Moon Rising.” Correcting Jack when he sings with enthusiasm, _“there’s a baboon on the right.”_

“Jack?”

“Yes, my little Crypt-kicker Five?” Jack’s face is curled into a goofy grin that he’s attempting to replicate on the pumpkin in front of him. 

“Why is it called a _Jack-o-lantern_?” AJ over enunciates.

“Hmmm, I think they named it after me,” Jack replies, brow furrowing. He’s pretty sure the origin story involves grotesque faces and supernatural beings and that’s not something he wants AJ to be thinking about as he tries to go to sleep at night. 

“Really?” AJ looks up from scraping out his pumpkin. 

“Yeah, cause I carve the best pumpkins,” Jack scrambles for an answer. He picks up the pumpkin and spins the half-finished face in AJ’s direction. “See?”

“I don’t think that’s right.”

“Oh, no? I think I’m doing pretty well. ”

“No. I don’t think that’s why they named it Jack-o-lantern.”

“Well, yeah, you’re right,” Jack bites his lip. He’s been careful not to lie to AJ, wants the boy to be able to trust what he says, but he also doesn’t need anything else that will give him nightmares. Doesn’t want to taint their fun with scary stories. “Remember how I told you, that people like to decorate with spooky things and tell scary stories around Halloween?”

“Yeah, that one house has skeletons in their yard. But skeletons aren’t scary. Everyone has one.”

Jack smiles at AJ’s pragmatic declaration. “Sometimes people are afraid of things that don’t make sense to other people, and that’s okay. Sometimes people are afraid of skeletons, or spiders, or the dark.”

AJ nods. “People are afraid of Jack-o-lanterns?”

“Um, sort of. People were afraid of other things and they thought the Jack-o-lanterns might protect them."

"Well, Jacks... Jacks do protect people... but..." he shakes his head.

Jack's heart bursts. "I guess, not protect them more that they thought it might... scare away the things they were afraid of. That was a really long time ago. Hundreds of years ago. Now people carve them because they’re tradition. It’s fun. They like the way the faces light up with candles at night.”

“Like a nightlight?”

“Yeah, in a way. Only if you use a real candle, you shouldn’t leave it burning all night.”

“That still doesn’t explain why they call it a Jack-o-lanterns.”

“I think the legend says that the first dude to carve one was named Jack. So they named it after him.”

“Oh, okay,” AJ turns back to scooping out his pumpkin guts, 

Jack gives a small shake of his head at AJ’s easy acceptance of his answer. He can never be sure when AJ will be satisfied and when he’ll keep pushing for more information. 

When the pumpkins are gutted and carved and the seeds roasting in the oven, Jack places small candles deep inside the pumpkins and strikes the match. He snaps off the lights and a cheery glow emanates from the faces. 

“Oooh!” AJ exclaims, crawling into Jack’s lap, watching the small flames flicker and cast shadows on the walls.

“We do good work,” Jack says, wrapping his arms around AJ. “Those are the best Jack and AJ -o-lanterns I’ve ever seen.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are various versions of Jack-o-Lantern origin story, but they're all kind of creepy. It is often a turnip that was hollowed out rather than a pumpkin.
> 
> Jack's not-too-spooky Halloween playlist:  
> Ghostbusters by Ray Parker Jr.  
> Monster Mash by Bobby "Boris" Pickett and the Crypt-kicker Five  
> September by Earth, Wind, and Fire  
> Bad Moon Rising by CCR


	3. Candy Corn

Jack knows it’s a divisive treat, often met with vitriol hatred or the delighted satisfaction of tradition. 

Mac enjoys it, which Jack found surprising at first. It didn’t seem like the kind of treat a nineteen year old kid would like. The demographic on the side of pro-candy corn, at least in Jack’s experience, skewed older. But the kid was raised by his grandfather, which might account for some of his more unusual preferences, including Rocky Road as his favorite ice cream. That just screams old man to Jack. 

Mac is an old soul.

Riley hated the stuff. Feigned gagging if she even saw it. Wouldn’t touch any treat it had been mixed into. Jack had picked it off a cupcake she brought home from school, offering her the now candy corn free treat and she still shook her head in disgust. 

“It’s got its waxy cooties on the frosting.”

“Why’d you bring it home then?” Jack asked, taking a huge bite.

Riley shrugged. “It was a gift. I didn’t want to be rude.”

“It’s from Trevor, isn’t it,” Jack mumbled around the thick cake and frosting. Glaring, he dropped the rest of the treat back onto the foil wrapper. 

Riley just smirked. 

Bozer ate it for the tradition. It reminded him of autumn and home and family. Though once Riley came into their lives he stopped adding it to his Franken-munch popcorn mix for Halloween movie nights.

In fact, after that first year, Bozer stopped pre-blending his mix entirely, instead setting out the different ingredients and toppings so each guest could concoct their own confections. Bozer was thoughtful like that, always attune to his friends’ needs and wants. 

Jack could take it or leave it. He didn’t particularly like it, and didn’t have the sentimental reasons to eat it like Bozer did. Neither his parents nor his sister liked it so it was never a treat that could be found in the Dalton house. 

He wasn’t sure he’d actually ever had the stuff until Mac shared it with him from one of his care packages. 

Mac tore into the box with fervor, he remembers. Bozer had mentioned in his last email that the Halloween decor and candy had hit the stores and promised to send some treats in his next package. It surprised Jack, his excitement, because Mac had a sweet tooth, sure, but Jack wouldn’t even call candy corn particularly sweet. 

That - and a new pair of socks for each of them, what is with that kid and socks? - was the only thing Bozer stuffed into the box. Along with a few plastic baggies so Mac could portion out the treats and bring some along whenever they rolled out.

It’s a favorite of Mr. Bozer’s, Mac revealed. Bozer used to pack it for him to keep in the pockets of his uniform, or in his squad car. It became almost superstition after a while. Jack’s never heard of the protective-amulet qualities of candy corn, but he’s got plenty of superstitions of his own, so who is he to judge? And he could use as much help as he could get keeping Mac safe. 

Candy corn was stuffed in Mac’s pockets for weeks, and he excitedly shared with Jack. It was one of the first moments Jack can remember that Mac talked about home. 

Bozer’s home. 

Bozer’s family. And Bozer’s Halloween traditions and the way they welcomed practically orphaned Mac with open arms. 

Jack always accepted a few pieces, because Mac wouldn’t eat it otherwise, saying he didn’t need it right now. Jack stretched it, relying on his acting talent to make the three or four pieces he accepted last the whole drive.

And when they finally made it home, safe and sound, he always threw a few pieces into his Frankenstein-munch mix. Because it felt right.

Like home, and family. 

So maybe, Jack has become sentimental about the treat now too. Eating it for tradition. 

After the first year in the Sandbox, he always picked up at least one bag to keep on hand for Mac, because the kid never seemed to buy the stuff for himself. 

When Jack sees it in the aisle at the grocery store that he’s recently begun thinking of as his grocery store, he finds himself reaching for a bag to share with his little pumpkin. Maybe make their own sweet and salty mix that reminds Jack of home.

When he pulls the candy out of the cabinet at home, AJ does not look impressed. 

“What is it?” AJ’s nose wrinkles up as Jack opens the bag and pours it into a small dish.

“Candy corn.”

“Candy  _ corn _ ?”

“Yeah, don’t make that face, you haven’t tried it yet.” 

AJ bites his lip and scowls

Jack grabs a handful and pops a few pieces into his mouth. It’s still waxy but smooth. He’s not certain of the flavor - is anyone really sure?- but there are hints of marshmallow, vanilla, maybe some butterscotch or caramel. 

“Do I- do I have to?” AJ says studiously watching Jack chew.

“Well, no,” Jack says after a beat. AJ has been cautiously testing the waters, determining which things he’s allowed to have an opinion on and which things are ‘Jack’s word is law.’ And Jack tries to use that power judiciously. AJ is so desperate to please him it’s easy to manipulate the boy without intending to. 

“It’s not a vegetable or anything that I want you to eat, but I’d like you to try it before you make a decision about it.” 

AJ swallows. 

After another few pieces, so does Jack. “It’s candy. Mac loves the stuff.”

“I’m not Mac,” AJ says, his voice soft and Jack almost has to strain to hear the words. 

“No, no, of course, you’re not,” Jack says immediately. “And I wouldn’t want you to be. You’re AJ.”

With a frown, AJ begins reaching for the dish.

“Hey, AJ,” Jack catches his hand, meeting his eyes. “You are you. And I love you. And I know that sometimes I make you try things you don’t want to try. Or eat things that you don’t always want to eat but that’s because I want you to be able to experience things. Or because they’re vegetables and I want you to grow up healthy. But this is one of those things where it’s your choice. If you don’t want to try it, you don’t have to. I don’t want you to eat it because you think I want you to or because Mac does, okay?”

“But I should try new things,” AJ sighs.

“Well, I think it’s important to try things for yourself and not make a snap decision about something before you have all the facts.”

“I have to gather more data.”

“That’s not a bad idea. Gather your data and make a hypotenuse.”

AJ rolls his eyes, but doesn’t correct Jack, pulling the dish across the table towards him, studying the contents. He jostles it, making the candies shift and rattle. Then he selects a single piece. 

He holds it up, between his thumb and his forefinger, studying the color and shape, he rolls it between two fingers, feeling the texture. 

Then he sniffs it. His nose wrinkles as he pulls the candy away from his face and Jack has to work to keep himself from laughing. 

With a look and a sigh so big one might think Jack has asked him to eat a bug rather than a piece of candy, AJ closes his eyes, screws up his face, and bites off the top of the triangle. 

It’s not even the full stripe of color. Half the layer remains attached to the candy.

AJ’s lips are pulled back showing his tiny little chompers. He chews delicately, as though trying to keep the confection away from touching his tongue and avoid tasting the flavor. 

Jack’s mouth twitches. “So, what’d ya think?”

AJ swallows hard. A huge gulp for such a small bite. His hand comes up to his throat as he opens one eye to look at Jack. “I don’t like it.” AJ’s tongue flicks dramatically out of his mouth, trying to rid itself of the taste

“Okay, that’s fair,” Jack chuckles. “I’m proud of you for trying something new. That was brave.” 

AJ shrugs. “Trying new things is important,” he repeats.

“Hopefully, it can be fun too,” Jack says, grabbing another handful. “And like I said, it’s okay to not like it. I won’t make you eat anymore.”

“But you like them.”

“Yeah, but that’s okay. You don’t have to like everything that I like,” Jack assures. “You like the cinnamon rolls at Wild Buffalo and I’d rather have the mammoth muffins.”

AJ cants his head, considering this. “And Mac- Mac likes them?”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to like everything Mac likes. I bet there are going to be things that you like that Mac doesn’t.”

Dropping his head onto his fist on the table, AJ sighs.

Jack’s mouth quirks and plays a hunch. “And I bet there are going to be things that you and I both like and Mac doesn’t.”

“Really?” AJ perks up, raising his head slowly, studying Jack. 

Jack bites the inside of his cheek. He tries, so hard to keep them separate. To keep AJ from feeling that he’s only some sort of extension or replacement for Mac and just when he feels like he’s getting the hang of it, he realizes it’s still a thought that plagues AJ’s mind. 

“Definitely,” Jack promises, reaching out and lightly bumping the tiny fist on the table, ignoring the small pang in his chest. “The fun part is that we’re still figuring out all the stuff that you like. It’s exciting, learning about who AJ is and what he likes and dislikes. And do you know the best part?”

AJ shakes his head.

“Well, the best part is that we get to figure all that stuff out together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this random headcanon that Bozer sends Mac and Jack socks in their Army care packages, all the time. I have no idea what prompted this idea, but it shows up in at least two of my Christmas stories. 
> 
> Riley's opinion of candy corn is my own. I won't even touch another Halloween treat if candy corn has been in it's vicinity. 
> 
> The Wild Buffalo Diner is AJ's favorite restaurant and makes its first appearance in violetvaria's story Diners and Dads, Stories and Sons. 
> 
> In a preview for season 5, it was revealed that Bozer's dad is a cop.


	4. Soup and Snuffles

Jack taps his pen against the notepad as he peers into the small pantry in the kitchen, considering the content. Contemplating additions to his menu for the week and to his shopping list. 

It feels so domestic in a way that he never thought he’d experience. Planning meals, and shopping trips, convincing AJ to eat his vegetables - which isn’t that difficult, Jack is grateful - organizing bedtimes, monitoring teeth-brushing. Someone depending on him for their needs in a tangible way. It’s very different than someone needing him to protect them from getting themselves shot. 

He’s not complaining, he’s surprised at how well he’s taken to this single-parent life.

While he jokes about parenting Mac, Riley, and even Bozer on occasion, they didn’t depend on him like AJ does. When he got them they already knew how to tie their shoes and cross the street. He wasn’t the person who introduced them to cereal or ice cream. They were adults. Responsible. Smart and level-headed. Self-reliant and could make their own decisions.

Except that they didn’t always make great decisions. Or at least decisions that were in their best interests. And that’s where Jack came in, as a safety net when they fell, a shoulder to cry on, a hug for when the world was too much or they just needed to hear the words “I’m proud of you” and “I love you.”

Maybe his world was more domestic than he realized. 

And good practice.

Because the closest he ever thought he’d get to raising a five-year-old was babysitting one of his kids’ kids.

AJ is playing on the kitchen floor, systematically taking apart the lego set he finished putting together a few days ago, and grouping the pieces into categories that Jack can’t decipher, when he snuffles.

Jack pauses at the sound, senses on alert as he glances over his shoulder. His brow furrows and AJ repeats the sound. Followed by a small cough.

“Jack.”

Jack spins around and is crouching beside the boy before the hoarse word is out of AJ’s mouth. 

“Hey, Applecake, you okay?” Jack frowns studying the child in front of him.

AJ’s eyes are droopy, his mouth pressed into a deep frown. “My head hurts,” he whispers, blinking heavily.

“You look like you aren’t feeling well,” Jack says, reaching out and laying a large hand against AJ’s forehead. “You feel warm.”

“I don’t feel warm,” AJ contradicts, his voice wobbles. “I feel cold.” 

“C’mere,” Jack coos, pulling AJ into his arms. AJ buries his head into Jack’s neck, his flushed face pressed close. 

“Jack,” AJ’s voice is muffled but Jack can still hear the tears that threaten to fall and cradles the boy’s head. 

Standing, Jack carries AJ down the hall and into the bathroom. He tries setting AJ onto the counter but the boy’s grip around his neck tightens. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jack promises. “I just want to take a better look at you.” 

AJ sniffles, loosening his arms enough for Jack to settle him onto the vanity and take half a step back. One hand remains twisted into Jack’s shirt. 

Jack places his hand on AJ’s forehead again, brushing back his hair, cupping his other hand to the boy’s warm cheek before he side steps, taking the hand AJ's latched onto his shirt with him as he  rummages through the drawer, searching for the thermometer.

He should count it lucky that AJ’s inquisitive hands haven’t found it and it still works. Had this been Mac’s home, the thermometer would be missing several key components and probably always read normal. 

“Here, turn your head,” Jack instructs. 

AJ heaves a mighty sigh at the sight of the thermometer. “Jack…” he whines. 

“Hey, now, none of that,” Jack cups his chin, and carefully maneuvers AJ head into position before sliding the thermometer into his ear. AJ wriggles at the sensation. Jack caresses the shell of his ear, smoothing back his hair and soothing AJ as he waits for the thermometer to take a reading. 

“How long have you been feeling sick?” Jack asks as he pulls the probe from AJ’s ear and notes the reading.

AJ shrugs. 

“Did you feel bad when you woke up?” Jack asks, wondering how long his boy was suffering in silence before he noticed something was wrong.

“It just happened.” 

“Just like that? While you were playing? No warning?” Jack slides his fingers through AJ’s silky golden strands.

AJ doesn’t answer, just leans forward, resting his head against Jack’s belly. 

“Okay,” Jack nods. He doesn’t know if he believes that, entirely. More likely the kid didn’t recognize the signals his body was giving him, and he hopes that AJ wasn’t actively trying to hide it from him like some other kid he knows and loves. “Can you tell me how you’re feeling? You said your head hurts?”

AJ nods miserably and sniffs.

“Is your nose running?”

Leaning back, looking up at Jack, AJ’s face crinkles in confusion. 

Jack grabs a tissue and rephrases. “Is stuff dripping from your nose?” He taps his finger lightly against the tip of AJ’s nose, prompting a small smile.

“Uh-huh.” 

“And you’re usin’ my shirt as a Kleenex?” Jack teases, wiping the little nose that is a hint pinker than normal. “What about your throat? Does it hurt?”

“Um…” AJ swallows. “A little.”

“Okay, okay. I haven’t really heard much coughing. I think I would have noticed that,” Jack adds the last part for himself. He wouldn’t have missed that. Right? He would have noticed if AJ was coughing. “Does your chest feel tight? Like it’s hard to breathe? Or a tickle?”

“Sometimes a… a tickle, but not a good tickle.”

Jack nods, his mouth pulling into a sympathetic frown as he looks at his little guy. “Anything else hurt? Ears? Or muscles?”

“I’m… I’m cold.”

“Okay, bugaboo,” Jack smooths a hand over AJ’s head again. “Let’s put your pjs back on and get you all snuggly.”

“But- but- it’s day time,” AJ protests, even as he lifts his arms towards Jack to be carried.

“Yeah, but I think you’re sick,” Jack says, scooping him up and carrying him into the bedroom. AJ snuggles into his chest. 

With one hand, Jack snags AJ’s pajamas that were tucked under his pillow and sits on the edge of the bed. AJ perches in his lap. 

“Arms up,” Jack instructs, tugging the long-sleeved t-shirt over his head. 

AJ shivers as the cool air ghosts over his skin before Jack can thread his arms through the sleeves. With some gentle wrangling, Jack gets him into his pajama pants and tugs a pair of warm socks onto his feet. 

“I want you to try to take a nap so you can fight off this cold. We can lay down here-” AJ is furiously shaking his head at Jack’s words- “or on the sofa in the living room. Those are your two choices.”

“Living room.” 

He’s not surprised by AJ’s quick response. The bedroom is for nighttime sleeping, and he’s adamantly against using it for naps. Mac was the same, preferring to rest on the couch while recovering. Finding the ambient sounds of the house comforting. 

Jack stands, AJ in his arms, and heads for the door.

“Wait,” AJ calls out. “My sleep sack!”

With a small smile, Jack turns back to the bed and snatches up the dark blue sleeping bag liner, one of the first things he ever purchased for AJ when they embarked on this journey. Life on the run meant, despite his best efforts, sleeping in questionable motels. After the sterility of the lab, Jack wasn’t sure how AJ’s immune system would respond to the onslaught of germs from rooms that hadn't been cleaned thoroughly. 

He hadn’t expected AJ to take to the comforting cocoon as thoroughly as he did, often asking to be swaddled in the constellation-covered material while in his car seat. He’d told AJ he didn’t need to continue using it when they moved into their home, but the boy had loathed to give it up. It’s still a part of their nightly routine.

And it’s permissible to use for naps. 

“Alright, caterpillar, want to wriggle into your chrysalis?” Jack shakes out the sleep sack, laying it on the couch and helps AJ slide in. He arranges the blankets, tucking them snugly around AJ’s shoulders. His head resting on Jack’s lap. 

* * *

Jack stands at the doorway of the living room, watching AJ burrow deeper under his blankets. His other eye is on the stove where a large kettle of soup bubbles, warm and cheery. He extracted himself from his boy about an hour ago with a plan in mind. 

If AJ was feeling better, he’d be disappointed to learn he missed watching Jack chop vegetables. His little acrobat loves perching on the counters while Jack cooks. 

But right now, watching his flushed face and listening to his sniffles, Jack doesn’t think he’ll feel like he missed anything. 

Jack ladles the soup into a mug that will be easier for AJ to sip. The cozy scent tickles his nose and his memory. He hasn’t made soup in a long time. He half-worried he’d forgotten the recipe. He didn’t have much time for cooking while he was away. And he’s only had a kitchen for a few weeks now. 

He’s not sure he can remember the last time he made this soup. Mac was vehemently denying that he was sick from his spot on the couch. Camped out in the living room with used tissues overflowing from the wastepaper basket. Declaring in a scratchy voice, deeper than usual that he’s “not sick.”

Which Jack ignored. Took his temperature. Made him soup and tea with honey and lemon.

He needs to add tea to his shopping list. 

Mac was like a feral kitten when he was sick. Hissing and spitting and shirking away, but once Jack pushed past all that, offering positive attention and affection, he melted. For a while at least. Until his fever broke and his emotional walls were firmly back in place. 

Jack wonders if Mac is letting anyone else make soup for him now. Or is he, already hurting with loss and abandonment, hackles raised and snapping at anyone who dares to come close. 

Jack doesn’t want to think about that too hard. 

Hopefully, Mac will let the family he made for himself stick close. They can take care of each other. Watch out for each other. And especially Bozer can be surprisingly stubborn when it comes to caring for the people he loves. Taking care of Mac in spite of himself. 

Gathering up his supplies, he brings them into the living room. Pausing, setting the mug on the end table, he studies his boy. The little guy is restless, but it doesn’t look like he’s having a nightmare. He hasn’t cried out in his sleep. There are no tear stains on his flushed cheeks or his pillow. Restless, but not struggling, not fighting. 

Jack sits on the couch, reaching for AJ and sliding him close. Propping him up against his chest. AJ snores softly through the congestion. Jack frowns at the heat radiating from the tiny body pressed against him. He wraps one arm around AJ, resting his hand against the warm forehead. 

“Hey, Mr. Snuffleupagus,” Jack murmurs into his ear. “Can you wake up and try some soup for me?”

AJ coughs and stretches, tipping his head back, he looks blearily at Jack.

“There he is,” Jack strokes a finger against his cheek. 

“Jack,” AJ croaks and Jack winces. 

“I’ve got some soup for you,” Jack reaches over and picks up the mug. He gives it another stir, blowing gently across the surface cooling it. 

AJ shakes his head. “My throat hurts.”

“I know it does, Snuffy, but this is going to help. It’s warm and that will feel good on your sore throat. You need some fluids. Plus there’s magic healing power in chicken soup.” 

With a dubious look, AJ wriggles his arms free from the sleep sack and reaches for the mug. Jack clasps his hands around AJ’s, helping him steady the cup and take a small sip. 

“Good job,” Jack praises as AJ swallows. “Chicken soup always makes me feel better when I’m sick. This is the soup I used to make for Riley when she was a little girl. Sometimes in the fall, I’d slice up the carrots so they looked like little pumpkins.”

AJ licks his chapped lips and nods, accepting a few more cautious sips. 

“Bozer makes good chicken soup too. He always puts a lot of noodles in his, but when I’m sick I just like to sip on the broth.”

Droopy eyes blinking heavily, AJ listens to Jack regale tales of the family he barely knows. After several more swallows, he coughs and turns his head away. 

Jack rubs AJ’s chest with a frown. He didn’t drink nearly enough. 

“Let’s try a little juice,” Jack encourages, reaching for the cup with the bendy straw that usually intrigues the boy. It barely gets a blink. “It’s apple.” 

Jack alternates the cup of juice and the mug of soup, tapping AJ’s lower lip, coaxing him to take more when the boy starts slowing down. 

“Try a little more for me.”

With a small nod and a large frown, AJ takes another sip. 

“That’s my good boy,” Jack praises. “Try another.”

“I don’t want it,” AJ rasps.

“You need to drink more so that you get better.”

“I have to drink it or I won’t get better?” AJ’s voice is weepy. 

Jack's heart break. “No, but it will help you get better faster. You need energy to fight off all those germs making you sick.”

AJ accepts another sip and grimaces. “I don’t like being sick.”

“Yeah, I know Ajax, I don’t like it when you’re sick either,” Jack presses a kiss into his hair and continues helping AJ with the mug. 

“Will- will I be better tomorrow?” AJ looks up at him so trusting and Jack wishes for all the world that he could promise that. Wishes he could take on the sniffly runny nose and sore throat so his boy didn’t have to feel this way. 

“I don’t know about that. Sometimes these colds have to run their course.”

AJ gives a wet sigh. 

“Do you want any more?” Jack asks, there are just a few swallows of soup and juice left. 

“No,” AJ turns his head away.

“Alright, you did good,” Jack puts the dishes aside. “How about we take a nap? Sleeping is good for getting better too,” 

“O- okay.” 

Jack grabs a small blue jar off the end table. The strong scent of menthol wafts when he twists open the green lid. 

“Settle in partner,” Jack says, helping AJ recline against him. “Got some vapor rub here that I’m going to put on your chest. It will help clear up that congestion. Nah, don’t look at me like that. It’s not going to hurt. It might feel a little cool going on but it’s gonna make your nose stop running’ and help you sleep.”

He dips a finger into the jar before sliding his hand under AJ’s pajama top. He rubs the thick salve in a smoothing motion over AJ’s chest. 

AJ mewls, tenses in a moment of uncertainty before relaxing into Jack ministrations. Heavy eyelids sliding closed and his breathing turns slow and rhythmic with sleep, punctuated by a soft whistle. 

“I’m sorry you’re sick, little buddy. Pretty sure it’s just a normal cold but it’s still no fun and I’m sorry to see you like this,” Jack continues rubbing AJ’s chest. “A few days and you’ll be up to your excited, curious self again. I know it’s not the first or last cold you’re gonna get. Probably don’t want to hear that. I don’t want to hear that. Wish I could protect you from them. But I promise, I’ll do whatever I can to take care of you and help you feel better.” 


	5. bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so excited that you're enjoying these Autumn-style slice of life stories! Thank you so much for reading and indulging me in this 'verse!

Coming to awareness before full wakefulness is a skill Jack has honed over the last few decades. Assessing his surroundings before his eyes are open, before his brain is fully online has saved his life more than once. Mac’s too.

Nowadays, he doesn’t sleep very deeply. It’s hard to fully relax knowing he’s the only person watching AJ. The only person around to keep him safe. 

He was always attuned to Mac. Knew when rough nights were coming. Slept light so he could rescue Mac from his demons if he needed to. The same is true for AJ. 

The house is dark. Quiet. The only sound a light patter of rain and AJ’s soft breathing. 

Still, Jack can’t shake the feeling that...

He opens his eyes and barely succeeds in stifling a startled gasp. AJ’s face mere inches from his own. Wide blue eyes watch him.

“Jack?”

“Yeah, gremlin?” Jack scrubs a hand down his face. “Are you okay?”

AJ nods.

“What’s up?” Jack asks, he can see the wheels turning in the blond head.

“I- I have more bones than you.”

Jack blinks. Laughter bubbles in his chest. “What?”

“I have more bones than you,” AJ repeats, lifting his head from his pillow, eyes wide and serious. 

“Huh? Really?” Jack rubs his eyes again, He throws a look over his shoulder. Oh-one-thirty hours. He yawns. 

He doesn’t know what to do with this information. Or what kind of response AJ is looking for. And if it were any other time than the middle of the night he’d let AJ teach him all about bones and skeletons and…

Oh. 

Skeletons.

AJ’s been fascinated by the skeleton they pass on their walk since the neighbor put out their Halloween decor last week. Stopping dead in his tracks, the leaves blustering around his feet ignored. He canted his head at the sight. Two skeletons stuffing a scarecrow while another carved a pumpkin for its head. 

A creative display, one Jack might have tried talking Bozer and Mac into using for their haunted house had he been at home. 

“It’s alright, AJ,” Jack said, stepping in front of his view, hand on the boy’s back, pulling him closer, planning to lead him forward. “It’s not real.”

AJ leaned around Jack’s legs, peering at the display. “Why- what- why?”

“It’s just something spooky they set up to scare the neighbors. It’s okay,” Jack assured, kicking himself for not noticing the decorations and altering their route. For not considering that the neighbors might take Halloween as seriously as Team Improvise did back home. He wondered if he could unzip his coat, pick AJ up, and allow the boy to bury his head against his chest.

Except, that as he looked down at his boy, AJ’s eyes weren’t wide with fear or distress. He looked… fascinated. 

His worry that AJ might find the Halloween decorations springing up around town disconcerting was nearly completely unfounded. He loved every minute of it. Pumpkins and skeletons, Dracula and Frankenstein’s monster. He wholeheartedly embraced spiders and their webs, bats, black cats, and ghosts. He’d probably stand there for hours and study each scene if Jack let him. He asks to walk past the skeletons every day. 

He twittered and giggled and shrieked in delight. Begged Jack to let them decorate their house. Which is why hand cut-out bat silhouettes hang in the windows, and the front door grew eyes and has been nicknamed “Frankie.” 

Not a single thing frightened him. 

Except for a display in the grocery store. 

AJ froze when his eyes landed on it. Jack grinned down, wondering what it was this time that attracted the attention of his little genius. Following AJ’s gaze, Jack’s heart stuttered in his chest. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Jack said.

AJ’s chin wobbled and he pulled his quivering bottom lip between his teeth. 

There, selling autumn-flavored craft beers, was a mad scientist in a lab made of twelve-packs. Test tubes and beakers. Bunsen burners and glass bottles. Flashing lights. 

Electrodes. 

Restraints. 

The stuff of very specific nightmares.

Jack squatted in front of the boy, blocking his view. “AJ, AJ, baby, look at me. Don’t look at that, look at me.” 

AJ’s eyes flitted to Jack’s face and then back to the scene.

“Ah, no, come on, look at me,” Jack put a bit more authority into his voice.

His blue eyes met Jack’s

“That’s a good boy,” Jack praises. “Can I pick you up?”

AJ gave one sharp nod of his head and Jack scooped him up, holding him tightly. AJ’s face buried in his chest. His tiny body trembling. 

Jack nearly dismantled the entire display right then. It took everything in him not to smash every single bottle, but instead stalk out of the store with his precious bundle. 

It took everything not to launch his own crusade to take out anyone who dared hurt his boy.

“It can’t hurt you. I’m not going to let it hurt you. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you,” Jack murmured, swearing an oath to the boy in his arm as he sat in the front passenger seat of the car, gently rocking AJ. 

That was a few weeks ago, and Halloween has, thankfully, gone back to being happy, fun times and they avoid that store entirely. 

Jack opens his arms and AJ slides closer, sleep sack and all, settling against his chest.

“So you have more bones than me? Just you or…”

“No,” AJ laughs. “Kids have more bones than grown-ups.”

“Really? Why is that?”

“Some bones are in pieces and then they fuse together into one big bone when you grow up.” 

“Wow, why do they do that?”

“So that kids can grow.”

“That’s pretty neat.” 

“Uh-huh,” AJ yawns. “The cal-calci- calcification is done when you’re twenty-five so… so I have more bones than Mac too.” 

“Huh, yeah, you do.”

AJ nods, his head bumping against Jack’s chest. “Do you think he knows that?”

“Well… I’m not sure, but I bet if he doesn’t he’d love to learn that. And he’ll have a lot of fun discussing that with you.”

AJ snuggles deeper into Jack’s chest. Moments later his breathing deepens as he drops back to sleep. Jack smiles and presses a kiss to the top of his head. 

He misses the days when he could drop off to sleep in a moment. He can mostly grab a catnap anywhere he feels safe, but those spaces are few and far between. If a lifetime on alert hadn’t already messed with his sleep schedule, the last few months as a single-parent, sole care-taker took care of the rest of it. 

Since they’ve been in their home, he’s relaxed enough for a late afternoon catnap on the couch. Sometimes AJ will crawl onto the sofa with him, but more often he’ll play with legos or color on the floor next to him. 

He listens to the quiet of the house, shifting on the couch, coming to awareness before he’s fully awake. Frowning when he can’t hear the scratch of AJ’s markers. 

Opening his eyes, he jumps when blue ones are inches from his face. 

“Jack?”

“Yeah,” Jack gives a small chuckle, scrubbing a hand over his face. He’s fought some of the most dangerous people in the world, and his five-year-old staring at him while he sleeps is the worst jump-scare he’s ever experienced. “What’s up buddy?”

“My bones are wrong,” AJ’s eyes are wide and his voice serious.

“What?” Jack pushes himself upright immediately, scanning the little body in front of him, reaching out an examining hand. “Does something hurt?” He stalls, hand hovering just shy of touching, worrying about hurting AJ, about making something worse. 

Surely, he would have heard, would have woken, if AJ had been hurt somehow? If he had broken something? He couldn’t have slept through that. So, maybe a growth spurt then? The one he’s been waiting for, hoping for, to prove to the doubts in his head that he is taking good care of the boy, making sure he gets enough to eat, gets enough sleep, and he’s healthy. The “wrong” that AJ is feeling could be an aching pain deep in his long bones. 

AJ’s face screws up.

His boy is hurting. Jack picks him up, pulling AJ into his lap, large hand covers his abdomen, while the other searches AJ’s collarbones, smooths down each arm and along the bony knobs of his spine. 

“No, Jack, my bones,” he gestures to himself. “My skeleton.”

Oh.

After AJ dropped off to sleep while explaining why he had more bones, Jack had carefully stretched so he didn’t disturb his slumbering boy, reaching for his phone on the nightstand. Verified AJ’s facts, not that he doubted the boy for a minute. Done a bit of reading about growth spurts. And then was struck with an idea. 

The package had arrived on their doorstep this morning. 

“There aren’t enough ribs,” AJ says, patting down the sides of his new black t-shirt, counting the white bones of the rib cage that surround his middle. Then tugs on the long sleeves. “The humerus should go all the way up,” AJ traces the illustration on his upper arm. “Not stop half-way.”

“Hmm, that is humorous,” Jack says.

AJ rolls his eyes. 

“I’m sorry your t-shirt isn’t anatomically correct.”

“It’s not.” 

“Well, it’s just meant to be fun. I don’t think they were expecting anyone to use it as an anatomy worksheet,” Jack runs his fingers across the ink where this afternoon he found AJ painstakingly labeling the radius and ulna of his t-shirt’s forearm in his five-year-old printing. “But you don’t have to wear it, if you don’t want to.” 

AJ’s mouth drops open. “I want to! It’s just- it’s just… not correct.” 

Jack hums. “I don’t think it’s something that we can fix. I don’t know if a marker is going to show up. Think it’ll just make a mess.”

AJ sighs.

“If someone asks about it, you could explain-”

“I- no,” AJ shakes his head. 

“Okay, well, maybe this is a shirt that you just wear at home? Or under a jacket. And you could teach me about the mistakes, so that I would know.” 

"Um…” AJ’s tongue peeks out of his mouth as he considers the solution and Jack’s offer. “That would be… okay.”

“Alright,” Jack smiles at him. “So what’s this bone here?” Jack taps one of the illustrations on AJ’s chest.

“That’s the clavicle,” AJ moves Jack’s hand up higher, to his collarbone. “It should be right here.” 


	6. Apple Picking

AJ grunts. Arms outstretched. Reaching overhead.

“You got it?”

AJ stretches higher, fingers wiggles. “Got it!” He tugs the plump juicy fruit into the palm of his hand, snapping the stem from the tree branch. Leaves rustle and the few remaining apples that are out of reach shimmy. 

“You’re not going to knock a whole bunch down on my head are you?”

“No!” AJ cries, affronted at the idea.

Jack reaches up, accepting the apple from AJ’s hand and dropping it into their nearly-full basket. 

“I’m just teasin’ ya,” Jack pats AJ’s foot where it dangles against his chest. “Did I ever tell you about the pear tree on my grandparent’s ranch?”

“Uh-huh,” AJ says, threading his fingers in Jack’s hair and hanging on loosely as Jack takes a few steps from the tree they picked bare to the next bunch of branches loaded down with apples.

“It was on the top of a hill, right on the edge. Practically growing crooked out of the ground. I’m surprised that it didn’t tumble right off the hill in a heavy rain. And there was a creek at the bottom. That hill would be covered in downed pears by mid-October.” Jack frowns. “We need to get some pears. I don’t think you’ve ever tried one.” 

“Will I like pears?”

“I think so. You’ve liked all the fruit you’ve tried so far.” Somehow, when they first started their adventure together, he expected AJ to be a picky eater. He wasn’t talking much in those early days, and those few words weren’t wasted on telling Jack what he liked to eat, if he even knew. 

He eyed the first meal set in front of him curiously, brow wrinkling, sniffing carefully and Jack was mentally scrambling for ways of keeping a preschooler fed while on the road that didn’t involve copious amounts of fried food. Which he wasn’t even sure AJ would eat anyway.

Examining each bite carefully before putting it in his mouth, it took Jack a few meals to realize he wasn’t reluctantly eating, he was studying. Learning. Making connections between tastes and textures. Creating a whole library of new information. Redefining what food meant after eating bland, who-knows-what for so many years.  


“I like fruit,” AJ agrees, stretching to reach another elusive apple. 

“It’s good stuff,” Jack agrees.

“Is there a lot of fruit that I’ve never had?”

“Oh yeah. There’s still fruit that I’ve never had.”

“Really?” AJ leans over Jack’s head, trying to see his face and determine if he’s being teased. 

“Yeah. It wasn’t until I’d been stationed in South America for a few years that I had soursop.”

_ “Sour?” _

“It makes a good ice cream.”

AJ hums. “Do apples make ice cream?”

Jack pauses. “Hmmm… There’s probably a creamery somewhere that has it as a seasonal flavor. Better to have vanilla ice cream with some apple pie I think.”

“What about pears?”

“I'm not sure. Never had pear ice cream either.” 

AJ passes Jack another apple. "Did you pick pears every fall?"  


“Yep. The dogs used to chase pears down the hill,” Jack continues his story, chuckling softly at the memory. “All us kids used to do that too. Try to catch ‘em before they landed in the water.” 

“Did you?”

“Sometimes. Most fun was when you caught it just before it fell in the creek. ‘Course we liked to pretend we were goin’ so fast down the hill that we  _ just couldn’t stop, ma _ , and fell in too. Don’t think she ever believed us.” 

AJ laughs and pushes up higher.

“One time, I was out there with my pop and my grandma. I can’t remember why, but we hadn’t gotten a chance to pick ‘em yet. Those branches were bending under the weight, practically snapping in half. Well, my pop reached up and picked one pear off the tree and that was enough to upset the whole balance. The whole lot of them rained down on our heads. What are you laughin’ at? It hurt,” Jack rubs the top of his head. 

“I promise I won’t rain pears on your head,” AJ giggles.

“Well, that’s all well and good, but we’re pickin’ apples.”

AJ giggles harder, completely content in his perch on Jack’s shoulders, playing with the hair of Jack’s not quite fauxhawk. 

He hasn’t had AJ very long. Just over six months. But they’ve come so far from those early days where AJ reluctantly accepted Jack’s hand, quietly answered Jack’s questions but only if Jack continued gently pressuring him to speak. 

They still have rough days and bad days and days where Jack wonders what the hell they’re doing. Wonders why Mac thought Jack could do this job. Worries that he’s messing the kid up, or that he just can’t keep going.

And then memories of AJ’s infectious giggles wash over his soul. 

The trust in AJ’s eyes that Jack will catch him, physically and metaphorically. 

Mac looked at him like that too.

Jack doesn’t know what he did to warrant that kind of faith from either of these kids. But he works every day to be worthy of it. 

* * *

“I can’t get it,” AJ grunts, forcing his mouth wider to bite through the caramel covered treat. He succeeds in tearing a mouthful of chewy caramel from the apple, but the fruit remains intact. 

“Alright, I’ve got an idea,” Jack says, whipping out his tac knife and flipping open the blade. AJ watches, fascinated as always by the knife as Jack slices and core the apple, reaching out and accepting the piece Jack offers him. 

He’s distracted from the treat by Jack’s very impressive and cool-looking knife, that he's absolutely not allowed to touch.  


The kitchen of their little home is warm and inviting. Their cabin tucked away from the rest of the world. The windows fogged and steam wafted from the chimney when they returned home from the orchard. It reminded Jack of getting sent outside to play because he was getting underfoot in the kitchen on holidays, anxiously waiting for cousins to show up.

Crimson leaves exploded through the air as AJ scritched and kicked his way through them to the front porch. Jack eyeballed the yard and decided there were enough to rake into a pile and toss AJ into it.

Later. 

After lunch. 

A hearty vegetable soup made in a crockpot that Jack hemmed and hawed and agonized over buying. Wondering if it was worth the cost when he had a perfectly good stockpot and set of pans. A wasteful purchase with funds that could be put to better use somewhere else. Within a week of the purchase, Jack knew it had been a good investment. He can prep a hearty meal and then spend the rest of the day taking AJ on adventures, not needing to worry about being home to stir the pot of soup on the stove. They get to walk into a warm house and a hot meal after being outside all morning. 

Jack cleared the house quickly and efficiently before bringing in their basket of apples. AJ followed, sniffing the warm air, and Jack’s heart burst in his chest when his little guy said, “Jack, I’m hungry.”

“You go wash your hands, and I’ll get lunch ready,” Jack sent him off while serving the hearty vegetable soup. A few minutes later, as he placed the bowls on the table, AJ came skidding back through the kitchen, nearly tumbling in his haste to take his seat. 

“Easy tiger, you don’t have to catch your lunch. And there’s plenty of it.” A soft smile played on his lips as he waited for AJ to notice...

“There are stars!” AJ looked from his bowl to Jack’s face and back down at the star-shaped noodles, picked out just for him. 

After lunch, AJ’s eyes were big as saucers as he helped Jack dip a few of their freshly picked apples into melted caramel. It was a good thing Jack planned an afternoon of leaf-crunching fun, because AJ was bouncing on the balls of his feet waiting for the caramel to harden. 

“This is easier,” AJ mumbles through a mouthful of the juicy, gooey treat, accepting another slice from Jack. Chocolate on his chin and lips and his cheeks full. 

“Careful there chipmunk-cheeks, don’t choke on that,” Jack cautions as he takes a smaller bite of his quarter of the apple, setting a good example. A year ago he would have shoved the whole piece in his mouth. 

AJ swallows carefully. “We should slice another one,” he says, sitting up on his knees and reaching across the table for an apple and his true prize, Jack’s knife. 

“Erhnt!” Jack buzzes and AJ freezes. “What do you think you’re doing?”

AJ looks up sheepishly. Then smiles innocently. “I was going to help.”

“Mmhmm,” Jack says. “What are the rules about knives?”

“Jack…” AJ whines.

Jack merely raises an eyebrow. 

“Butter knives only,” AJ sighs, sliding back onto his heels, repeating in a dutiful but morose tone. “Only for meals and only at the table.” 

“That’s important, AJ. Knives are dangerous. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“But, I would be careful,” AJ promises.

“This isn’t a negotiation,” Jack meets AJ’s eyes, waiting for his acceptance. 

AJ sighs again and nods his agreement. The remaining bite of apple sits on the table, forgotten after Jack's mild scolding. He's sensitive to any perceived disapproval. Distraught by admonishment. Jack's heart aches, trying to find a balance between gentle correction and allowing AJ to question things and spread his little wings.  


"Someday, when you're a little older," Jack shakes his head, correcting himself, "much older. I'll teach ya how to hold and carry a knife and we can get you one of your own."

"When- when I'm six?" AJ peeks up through his fringe of hair.

"Uh, no. Older than that. I'll let you know when," Jack says, hoping he hasn't opened himself up for daily questioning of _'am I old enough yet, Jack?'_ He reaches out, brushing the shock of hair back from AJ's forehead, than pats his hand.  "You're a good boy, AJ. It's tough to wait for things. It's hard to be young. And I know sometimes the rules are hard to follow. I'm here to help you remember. And if you forget the rules, I'll still love you. No matter what."  


AJ blushes a bit under Jack's gaze.

"And you know,  I think you're right though, we can share two apples between us. You want another slice, Wolverine?”

Perking up at Jack's forgiveness, his declaration of love, and the prospect of another piece of the sweet treat, AJ agrees. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soursop is a fruit native to Central America and the Caribbeans. It's got a slightly citrus-y, strawberry-y taste and a creamy texture. It was my favorite flavor of ice cream from a little shop near my homebase during the time I spent in Central America. 
> 
> A dairy farm near my current home sells ice cream and one of their many novelty flavors is Caramel Apple.
> 
> My grandparents had a pear tree and I have many fond memories of chasing the elusive fruit down the hill and trying to catch them before they landed in the creek. One autumn day while picking with my dad and grandma, a whole branch-full of pears rained down. Pears are a very solid fruit. They clunk when they land on heads.


	7. Happy Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween!   
> I'd hoped to have this story finished by the 31st but the last few days at work have been fodder for horror stories and I didn't have a chance to finish. I hope you've enjoyed a glimpse into Jack and AJ's Halloween highlights. I've enjoyed writing and daydreaming about them!

A loud pop sends a smattering of sparks into the air. 

AJ jumps at the noise before breathing out a small “oh…” Eyes sparkling in the flickering firelight. His breath visible in the cold night air. 

The moon is not quite full, obscured by a veil of gray clouds rolling across the navy skies. 

Two hands wrapped around his mug of hot chocolate, he snuggles deeper into his blanket, further into the security of being under Jack’s arm. 

Half-bare branches stretch gnarled fingers toward the sky, casting spooky shadows and creaking with each gust of wind. Their branches skittering against each other like creepy long fingernails against a windowpane. 

It feels like midnight. AJ’s jaw cracks with a huge yawn. 

Feels like they’re miles from anywhere in the middle of a wilderness, far away from civilization, the only two people in the world. 

Instead, it’s just after seven, the sun setting earlier and earlier, and they’re a few dozen yards from their home, which while it’s not in a big city by any means, it’s not quite lost deep in a dense forest. The neighbors aren’t close enough to see, but Jack can hear the faint beat of a cowbell on the radio, carried on the wind from a garage down the street, where now that trick or treating is over, the more grown-up party can start. 

Jack swallows another gulp of his quickly cooling hot chocolate. 

The fire pops again. Another shower of sparks that delight AJ. The sweet smell of cedar on the smoke that curls lazily towards half-hidden stars. 

“Did you have fun tonight, Chewy?” Jack asks, looking down at the tiny face illuminated by the fire, a dark smudge on the tip of his nose. 

“Yeah,” AJ smiles. “I like trick ‘r treating.” 

Jack ruffles the brown fur hood that covers AJ’s head. 

It had been a debate Jack warred with himself for weeks, whether to take AJ around the neighborhood, ringing doorbells and asking for candy on Halloween night. Wanting to give AJ as many good experiences as he could, while protecting him from even perceived danger. 

The warm, furry Chewbacca costume that pulled down low over AJ’s face, disguising his features sealed the deal. 

And AJ’s insistence that Jack dressed up with him. The Wookie couldn’t be out alone without his handsome, loveable, scoundrel, smuggler partner. Even if AJ didn’t know who either of those characters was, yet. His dislike of the cold meant he loved being snuggled into the soft, fuzzy costume and he’s worn it to bed a few times since he got it.

Jack always mentally cast himself as Han Solo, to Mac’s Luke. Watching the close, teasing and protective friendship between those two on the screen made something seize in his heart the first time he watched the saga after meeting Mac. The determination to save the other, even at personal expense was an experience he could easily relate to. 

Now, he feels a bit more like Obi-Wan hiding out, watching over Luke on Tatooine. 

The Star Wars metaphors could probably use some work, but the elements are there. 

Someday, he’ll show Star Wars to AJ, but that might have to wait until they’re back at home. Jack doesn’t think his heart could take watching it before that. 

AJ had looked less than convinced when Jack explained the purpose of the evening. The answer “because that’s what you do on Halloween,” was not a sufficient answer for the whys of dressing up, ringing doorbells, or passing out and accepting candy from strangers. 

The last one threw Jack too. He’s going to inspect AJ’s candy haul before he allows the boy to touch any of it. Most candy tampering stories are urban legends, and a lot of the ones that aren’t are sad stories of families poisoning each other, but that doesn’t mean Jack isn’t going to take each and every one seriously when it comes to his boy.

And, just in case his paranoia gets the better of him, he bought a few bags of Halloween candy that he can swap out for what AJ collected and toss the whole lot of it. He can probably do it without AJ noticing. Doesn’t think AJ counted everything as he collected it. Though he probably kept a mentally tally of his favorite Snickers bars? 

Jack thinks AJ enjoyed the novelty of the interaction with people and kids close to his age more than the idea of the candy. The opportunity to practice being incognito and be in disguise, getting a peek into the entryway and living rooms of the houses they visited was also a unique and exciting change. 

Tipping his head back, AJ asks, “Jack, is Halloween over?”

“Yeah, tonight it is.”

“Oh.”

“But that doesn’t mean that fall is.”

AJ quirks his eyebrow.

“People are putting the spooky stuff away now, like the bats and the spiders-”

“And the skeletons?”

“And the skeletons,” Jack confirms.

AJ sighs and lays his head against Jack’s chest again. 

“And we probably won’t see any more jack-o-lanterns this year. But we’ll still see pumpkins. There are still leaves to crunch and bonfires burn.”

“We can make more leaf piles?”

“Yep, and we can still make caramel apples and apple pie.” 

Canting his head, to look up at him again, AJ considers Jack’s words. “But fall will end too.”

“That’s true,” Jack says. And probably sooner than either of them realizes judging by the chill in the air. “The seasons will keep changing, but that just means it’s time for us to have new and different adventures.”

“I still like Halloween.”

“Me too, it’s been a lot of fun,” Jack didn’t think anything could be more fun than celebrating Halloween with Mac, Bozer, and Riley. And it wasn’t more fun, just very, very different fun. With one hundred percent less alcohol, seventy-five percent less spooky, and fifty percent more cuddles. A very different Halloween than years past. He wouldn’t change a thing, except being able to share it with all his kids. 

"I’m sad that it’s over,” AJ admits quietly. 

Jack leans closer, murmuring against the top of AJ’s head, "It's okay to be sad when things change. But sometimes one thing has to end so that we can experience something new.”

It’s not fair. Everything has been new to the boy these last six months since his rescue from the lab. Having a whole month of Halloween-style stability has been a welcome change.

“I bet that we’ll find another holiday or two that you’ll enjoy, maybe even as much as Halloween.”

“Maybe,” AJ shrugs, looking doubtful. 

Jack smiles. “Okay, guess I’ll just have to make that my new mission.” 

“A mission?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Missions are- are important.”

“Yup.”

AJ pulls back again, eyes widening, searching Jack’s face.

Jack looks down at his little guy. “You are my mission, AJ.” 


End file.
